Dance of the Eclipse
by TehPinkKitten
Summary: Sherlock Holmes and John Watson take in a victim into their home. Her near-rape experience is connected to another strange case which leads Sherlock and John into an adventure. Rated M. Hints of John/OC and even Sherlock/John.


Fear overcame me as I did a heavy sprint down the cold, dark ally, away from the man who's only intentions is to rape me and leave me. I turned the corner and looked around the street. It was dead silent. Everyone returned to their homes and off to bed.

"He-" I tried to should but felt strong hands on me, long fingers wrapping around my neck tightly, strangling me. My breath was knocked out of my lungs as the man shoved me back into the ally, forehead hitting the hard brick in front of me. My head spinned from the impact, body shuddering from the initial pain. The man was on me, pinning my hands above my head with one hand and clawing almost all of the buttons on my long sleave shirt. My body thrashed as I inhaled to prepare for a scream but a hand was clamped on my throat, nearly crushing my windpipe.

"Why don't you be a nice little whore and take it." His alcohol filled breath made it to my neck and shivered in disgust.

"Let me go." I rasped as he did damage to my windpipe before letting go slowly. He smiled, some teeth missing and some yellow, before bending his head downwards to take my earlobe in his hot mouth. "Get away!" I managed to cry out before his fingers wrapped around my throat once more but he put too much pressure. I thrashed in attempts to make him release me so that I would breath. I felt the blood rush to my head and my breathing became harsh and more forceful. My head began to spin before my knees buckled and my vision blurred. His grip was bruising until it suddenly vanished and my body collapsed to the floor. My breaths returned to normal after a while after my vision cleared slightly, my gaze upon the red, eclipsed mood. I inhaled deeply, renewing the air in my lungs as a shaky hand made it up to my throat. A shadow form leaped from the roof of the flat to another, suprising me. I gathered myself quickly and got up with my hand against the brick wall. I turned to my right and stared, horrified as I saw the dead body of the man who had tried to rape me. There was a scaple on the floor... A bloody scaple and- oh god... His neck. His neck...

I gasped slightly, not wanting to damage my throat any further, and covered my mouth. A dead man in front of me while the murderer ran away doesn't look good for me. The police will think I killed him! Oh god... who will I go to?

Sherlock...

Sherlock Holmes.

My mind clicked as I bend over, removing my heels slowly and tossing them in a far corner before taking my purse and running out of the ally before into Baker Street. I couldn't believe how close I was to Sherlock when I was knocking at his door. "Please open." I pleaded breathlessly as I hugged myself to cover my chest after my shirt was ripped open by the man. I knocked with a shaky hand and covered my face. Then, a cabbie pulled up. A tall man with a black long coat and a dark blue scarf appeared with a shorter man with dirty-blonde hair. "Mr. Holmes?" I asked, voice cracking from the slight tears.

"My god." The shorter man, John, rushed towards me and removed his coat to toss it around me while Sherlock began unlocking the front door. "Your head- Mrs. Hudson! Get my kit." John shouted across the hallways as they led me slowly upstairs and into the living room. "Sit there," he pointed at his chair and took the kit as Mrs. Hudson walked in with it. "Relax." John removed peroxide, stitching and a few cleaning wipes. As John left to the kitchen, Sherlock leaned in, inspecting me.

"What evil thing got you?" He asked before leaning back to respect my space as I let out a trembling breath.

"He's dead. That's why I want to talk to you." I rasped before my hand made it up to my sore throat.

"Don't talk," John returned, hands cleaned and drying. Sherlock stood from his seat so that John would sit and begins his work. My eyes watched as Sherlock took a small notebook and a pen before bringing it to me. "Sherlock. Let her rest for a moment."

"Might as well get the information now. Lestrade will be knocking on our door in the next hour." Sherlock reminded him as he placed the notebook on my lap. My hand took the pen as I calmed myself.

'I was raped,' I wrote and showed it to him. John didn't pay attention to my writing but he concentrated on cleaned my nasty wound. 'Im not sure what happened exactly but I remmember his weight pushing up against me, damn near strangled me to death before his pressure on me suddenly changed. Next thing I knew, The man was dead, slit throat by a scaple.'

Sherlock read silently to himself and smirked. Something was happening in his mind that I'm not aware of. What could it be? "All of this under the eclipse? Brilliant!" He exclaimed as he hopped up, hugging the note book. I blinked a few times before looking at John. He shrugged as he began stitching. "I have been waiting for this!" I heard his voice once more before he disappeared into his room. I looked at John as he snickered.

"I am just as confused as you are... And... Done." He said as he leaned back to inspect his work. He nodded and cleaned the extra blood from around my stitches. "Now, let's see about that throat-"

"No!" I shouted harshly before coughing a few and wincing back. He frowned and nodded once more.

"Alright. Come, I'm sure Sherlock has found something." John exhaled as he stood. He helped me stand on my feet and I gripped his coat. He led me to his room which was passed the kitchen. I took a peek into his room first, seeing papers fly everywhere before opening the door fully. One wall of the room was covered with newspapers, photos and stories.

"The woman of the night." Sherlock mumbled as he took a step back and looked at every peice of paper. I took a step forward, walking next to him and stopping.

"The woman of the night." I whispered as I looked at each newspaper story or a woman killing a man during each lunar eclipse. Could this be the one who saved me? I took another step forward to place my hand on the picture of her silhouette but when I raised my hand, Sherlock's voice sounded in my head.

"Don't touch. Everything is in it's proper place." He mumbled as he pressed his hands together in a thoughtful manner. "The woman didn't attack until you were harmed. That means she has a moral purpose. Why..." He asked himself, then sighs in frustration as he pulled out his cellphone and began typing away quickly. "The next eclipse is in the next 2 months. We have enough time if we move quickly and-"

My heart dropped as I heard the door knocked. I'm not sure if it was the second time but the knock sounded irritated and impatient. I looked at John for assistance as I tried to hide myself under his coat. Nothing was working.

"That must be Lestrade."

Leastrade? Detective Inspector Lestrade? The police was already knocking at his door ready to pick me up? Panic began to fill me up as I scooted myself near John as he turned his head towards the living room. Lestrade? I had a feeling that going to Sherlock was a mistake because he basically works with the police.

I too a strong hold of Johns jumper and tugged it. "They will not take me in for anything." Only a rasping voice was released from my throat. John hushed me gently as Sherlock walked out of the room and towards the door. I couldnt see him but I could hear their conversation from the room.

"Problem?" Sherlock answered.

"Yes, ofcourse. I know she's in here, Sherlock."

"Your speaking riddles..."

"Sherlock," I heard the man damn near shout at him and I winced behind John. "She is a murderer and we are taking her in." I saw the man, Leastrade, walked passed the livingroom and into the kitchen before stopping short to meet John's eyes. "Are you sure it wasnt out of self defense? How well do you know the situation, Lestrade?" Sherlock walked slowly around him to stop between him and John. I saw his face scrunched up thoughtfully for a moment until he met with my eyes. "She is the evidence." Sherlock turned his body and pointed in my direction. I slowly stepped away from John and revealed part of my bruised neck with a sigh. Lestrades eyes shifted away before looking at Sherlock.

"Fine. We have to bring her in nonetheless."

"She's tired. Let her rest the night."

"She needs to be held in protective service-"

"John was a soldier. We have the protection she needs." Sherlock glanced at both John and I and back at Lestrade. He let out a sigh and nodded his head in defeat.

"Fine, Sherlock but if there is one more harm caused, I will legally take her in." He pointed at me and I inhaled sharply. Sherlock nodded and pointed his chin at the door. I turned my direction to John who was concentrated at the scene that was playing out in front of him. When he noticed me looking, he turned and gave me a calming smile.

"Sherlock handles nearly everything." He whispered to me and turned his gaze back to Sherlock who was now locking the door silently. "Alright. Time for you to get... Um... Cleaned up. You need clothes to sleep while we put yours to wash and air-dried. While Sherlock's room is messy, you can sleep in mines." he placed a hand against my back, gently pushing me in the right direction of his room. I walked quietly with my head down as I walked into a clean room. I decided to use sign language because I was unable to speak anymore so that I would heal.

'Army-doctor?' He turned to me, a bit confused for a moment as he saw my hands move. His eyebrows raised in realization and nodded.

"How did you know?" He asked as he walked towards his closet and pulled out another jumper and tossed it towards me. I caught it and held on to my purse before moving my hands once more.

'The way you fixed my wounds.'

"Oh... I see. Since when you learned sign language?"

'At the age of thirteen.'

"How old are you now?" He asked as he dug through almost everything before sighing and looking at me.

'24.'

"I can't really find anything for you to wear under but you can go straight to sleep after you shower so that way no one can disturb you." He said as he walked towards me. I nodded and smile as he patted my back. He took a clean towel from behind the door and led me out of the room and into the bathroom. He began pointing out which knob is hot and which knob is cold. "I think you can handle it." He chuckled softly before leaving and shutting the door behind him.

I took a long, relaxing bath to ease my sore muscles and put on some fresh underwear that I usually fold at the bottom of my purse in case I slept over somesones flat. Then I put on the long jumper that John gave me. It stretched a bit too much, almost up to my knees and the sleave covered my hands almost completely. I sighed as I saw all of this in a full-body mirror.

"Darling?" I heard a soft womans voice behind the door before the woman knocked. I slowly opened the door and saw the landlady, Mrs. Hudson, holding a small basket in her hands. "Let me take your clothes for you so I can wash them downstairs." I nodded before kneeling down to take my clothes and standing back up to place them neatly in the basket. "Hope you feel better soon." She said in a cheerful voice before leaving. The door stood open as she left and I saw Sherlock and John sitting in the opposite of eachother and talking. Their voices were too quiet for me to pick up so I moved in a bit closer until Sherlock saw me and stopped. John stopped from the sudden silence and turned around to look at me.

"How are you feeling?" He asked me with mch concern. I smiled and nodded a bit.

"Slightly better." My voice was still rough but it cleared up a bit. "Can speak. Doesn't hurt that much." I kept my words to a minimum to keep my throat from burning. "Thank you."

"My pleasure." He said before sipping his tea.

"I'm sure you have questions as to who I am and what I do...-"

"I never have questions as to that. I know exactly who you are and what you do." Sherlock said flatly as he took his violin bow in his hand and fingered the handle slightly. I stood there, baffled as I heard this. I know who Sherlock Holmes is but I have never met him in my life. How could he possible know who I am? "Amelia Richards but your real name is Jessica Simmons. You are daughter to the famous actress Angelica Simmons. You changed your life completly, wanting to live a secret life because you hate being the center of attention. You still love your mother but refrain from any contact because you don't want to cause any attention from the photographers. Now as to what you do, You have a very strong connection to Scotland Yard. How do I know this? Well, you seem to know Lestrade by the way you looked at him. You knew exactly who he was and what he does. He seems to know who you are as well. The way he changed his mind after he first saw you made me think this. Now, I have narrowed it down a few. One, security. Two, assistant. Three, your part of the forensics team. We can now cross one out because female security are heavily build and don't wear heels. Two can be crossed out as well because Lestrade doesn't know you too well for you to actually be his assistance so... What does that leave us? Option three. You work with forensics but not with Anderson. Perhaps Michael. So there you are, new questions being jammed into your head." He made his deductions precise. Down the the very last detail. I do know Lestrade, I do work in the forensics team, my mother is a famous actress, and my real name is Jessica Simmons. I couldnt help but laugh before covering my mouth. "I must be missing something..." He mumbled as he placed down his bow.

"No! Not at all." I waved my hand and shook my head. "You have everything right but I can't help the face you make while you make your deductions."

"Face? What face? John says I have a face too."

"Clearly you do." John mumbled as he sat back comfortably in his seat with a long sigh. Sherlock glanced at him and back at me.

"I know I'm missing something." Sherlock growled in frustration, making me smile and think.

"Possibly that I'm part French and I that I have never met Lestrade." I pointed out as crossed my arms, my smile growing when Sherlock eyebrows furrowed as he closed his eyes.

"How do you know him and how does he know you?"

"Well," I responded quickly, dragging out the word. "I see him all of the time in the news paper. Also, I have read about you too. Mostly when I see Lestrade in the paper, I read out him and you. I'm not sure how he knows me. Possibly Michael will transfer me to Anderson." I placed my finger on my chin in a thoughtful manner. To be honest, I'm really not sure how Lestrade knows me so I'm just going by that answer. It's the only possible answer.

"Well, that's enough questions. You need to rest. Me and John need to think." I'm not sure what he meant by 'need to think' but I took it in a positive way so I nodded and turned on the balls of my feet before walking towards John's room. As soon as I walked in, I shut the door behind me, blocking any light from entering the room. The darkness never scares me. It makes me sleep better than I usually do in the light.

I climbed into the comfortable bed and threw the sheets over my my shoulders. I crawl up into a little ball because it the only position I know that will help me sleep better. My eyes slipped close as I let sleep engulf me not knowing that there's a man waiting in my dreams. 


End file.
